


Stopover

by Govi



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Flightplan AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-26
Updated: 2010-01-26
Packaged: 2017-10-06 17:24:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Govi/pseuds/Govi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What do you do when you're in L.A.for thirty-six hours?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The flight from London to Los Angeles had been smooth and rather uneventful. Most of the crew had sixteen hours to rest before their next flight, but Marcus, the co-pilot Brian and purser John had a thirty-six hour break. Instead of going straight to the hotel like the others, they decided to have a few drinks first at the bar they always frequented when here. They didn't care about changing clothes, as it was the kind of place where you could go wearing swimming trunks in the winter without anyone even blinking an eye.

They put their travel trolleys in one of the cabs taking the rest of the crew to a hotel and then took the last cab for themselves. Marcus sat on the back seat with John and squinted against the still brightly shining sun, despite the hour of the day, while their cabbie made his way out of LAX.

A little less than an hour later the cab stopped in front of the 'The Dark Side'. Every time they had been here before there had been something going on; a quiz, a parody on line dancing, live music or a drag show, and tonight was no exception. A big poster on the door proudly announced 'Jazz Night tonight' and Marcus winced at what sounded to him like two trains hitting each other at full speed. Not that he had anything against jazz, but this seemed to be much more experimental than he liked. He hesitated for a moment, thinking how maybe he would be better off in his hotel room, but then he followed Brian inside, deciding a beer or two would take off the sharp edges.

It wasn't very crowded, so maybe he wasn't the only one not too keen on the music he thought wryly, but at least they was a nice table free in the farthest corner, away from the big speakers. Brian went to the bar to get them some drinks and Marcus sat down, putting his fingers behind the knot of his tie in an effort to loosen it.

"You shouldn't do that," a voice said very close to his left ear and he startled, then looked over his shoulder into the grinning face of the guy on the table next to him. He looked a bit unruly, especially compared to Marcus who was still in full pilot mode, but he seemed friendly enough and Marcus lifted his brow. He had to lean backwards to answer or his words would be lost in the noise.

"I shouldn't?"

"No, it suits you. The complete outfit I mean. Are you a real pilot, or do you and your friends have some party to attend?"

Marcus chuckled, "No; it's the real thing."

The other man tucked long strands of hair behind his ears and grinned again. He had an interesting face with chiselled cheek bones and a deep cleft in his chin. "I am Viggo," he said.

"Marcus."

"So that would be Captain Marcus?"

Marcus laughed, "Actually no, it's Captain Rich, but you can call me Marcus, or Marc."

Certainly a good looking guy, this Viggo, and it was a shame being here only for a short while; too short to know him a bit better and maybe have some fun. It seemed the American approach was a bit different to the English, but he could still recognise somebody coming on to him.

At that moment a deafening sound rolled from the speakers and there was a sudden silence. Marcus heaved a sigh and looked at the ceiling in mock gratefulness. "Thank god!" The respite was only short, as the bartender pressed a button and new, horrible sounds filled the space. He accepted the glass of beer that Brian handed him and clinked with him.

"So Marcus, don't you like the music?"

He turned back to look at Viggo apologetically, "Not really no, it's giving me a headache."

"So what music do you like then?"

'I like all sorts of music, but to be honest I love classical music best. How about you, what do you like best?"

"Let me be honest too, Captain Rich," and Viggo came so close that his lips almost touched Marcus' ears and made him shiver, " I have this thing about men in uniform, especially British men in uniform."

Marcus pulled back as if he had burned himself and looked at Viggo incredulously, "Say what?"

"I say I have a small apartment only a few blocks away, nothing fancy, but nice enough. You don't like the music here and maybe you could teach me how to fly. So how about it, Captain?"

Viggo's hand landed on Marcus' back and slowly made its way down. Marcus stared at the other man, wracking his brain for an answer. He didn't do this, well not any more at least; he was too old and sensible now to pick up some bloke in the pub and go home with him.

The hand now rested on his arse and it felt like it was burning a hole through his uniform pants. Viggo looked at him expectantly and Marcus slowly licked his lips. He turned to glance at Brian and John, but they were engaged in a lively conversation with two blonde girls.

A little more pressure on his backside and he looked at Viggo again. The whole idea of leaving with this good looking stranger and fuck the consequences, made him horny as hell.

"How about it?" Viggo asked, and this time his lips did touch Marcus' ear and he could swear he felt the tip of a tongue slipping in and that did it.

"Wait for me outside, I'll be there in five minutes or so." He turned back to his own table without waiting for an answer, but the hand on his arse was gone and so probably was its owner. He took his time drinking his beer, and then bent over the table to tell John he was leaving, that he had a headache, as Brian had only eyes for the girl sitting next to him. John nodded, mouthing a "see you tomorrow" and Marcus rose from his chair and left.

Making his way outside, he wondered what the hell he was doing. He must be crazy to agree to a stupid thing like this and he should take a cab back to the hotel. He took a deep breath when he stepped outside; it was wonderful to hear the jazz fall back to a muffled version. It was almost dark, but Viggo stood leaning against a lamp post and the hard planes of his faces were brightly lit. He walked over to Marcus, grabbing him by the elbow and steering him into the right direction.

Marcus freed his arm from Viggo's grip, not willing to give himself over completely. *If his place is a rat hole, I won't go in.* It wasn't though; they stopped in front of a newly renovated building. "What do you do for a living?" Marcus asked in the elevator taking them up to the eighth floor.

"Actor," Viggo said curtly.

The moment they stepped into the apartment Viggo laid a hand on Marcus' back and smoothly pushed him into the first room on his left, which was the kitchen. Viggo pressed a switch making soft yellow light flood from behind the cabinets.

Marcus wanted to say something, but gulped instead when Viggo grabbed his tie, reeling him in and then licking a broad stripe from neck to ear. He gasped and then Viggo's mouth was on his and they were kissing, wet and messy and wonderful.

Marcus stumbled against the counter as Viggo pushed him backwards, panting as Viggo broke the kiss and slowly slid down to his knees. Clever fingers unbuckling his belt, unzipping his pants and then Viggo's mouth was on him as if he was starving. Hands clutching the countertop, Marcus looked down on Viggo's bobbing head. He was good, knowing exactly where to put pressure, licking and sucking Marcus into a brainless, desperately begging state.

He grabbed for Viggo's head, wanting to keep him in place, but his hands were batted away.

Marcus whimpered when Viggo suddenly let go of his cock and rose to his feet, turning him around almost roughly, so he now faced the glass door of the kitchen cabinet. His pants slid down his legs, bunched up at his ankles and he tried to shake them off but couldn't because of his shoes.

Viggo's hand on his back made Marcus bend down even more, and he spread his legs as far as his pants allowed him.

"Don't move," Viggo warned him and then he was gone, but Marcus could hear him in one of the other rooms. He didn't move, just stared at his own reflection in the glass door until Viggo was back, throwing a cellophane wrapped condom on the counter, just a few inches from Marcus' nose. *At least one of them still had a functioning brain.* Slick fingers worked themselves inside of him and he moved on them, pleading for more. He tried to spread his legs wider when he felt the blunt head of Viggo's cock nudging his entrance. Viggo's, "Ready for take-off Captain?" pissed him off and he growled at him.

"Shut the fuck up and just fuck me."

"Tsk… did they teach you language like that at Eton?"

"I never went to fucking Eton, now get on with it or I am out!"

Then finally, finally Viggo slid in. He didn't waste any time on slow or careful, just grabbed Marcus' hips and fucked him. He felt trapped in the uniform jacket, the pants restricting almost every movement of his legs and it was great, the counter providing a marvellous friction. He cried out when Viggo shifted, sliding in even deeper, prodding his prostate with every trust. Viggo's hand worked itself between Marcus' body and the counter and grabbed his cock, stroking it twice, three times until Marcus climaxed, dragging Viggo down with him.

It took them a while to regain their breath, and then Viggo helped Marcus to straighten up. Now that the rush was over, his body hurt in all sort of places, but in a very pleasant way. He felt a bit shy, but Viggo smiled at him and offered him a drink.

"Thanks, but I have to go now; I need to sleep."

"You could sleep here," Viggo suggested, but Marcus shook his head, knowing very well that wasn't a good idea.

"Perhaps some other time. Have you seen my belt?"

The other man grinned widely. "I took it, can I keep it for a while?"

"You want to keep my belt? Why?"

Viggo shrugged. "Maybe the next time you come to L.A. you'll drop by to pick it up. It looks expensive."

"So what if I lose my pants on the way back to London?"

"I'll lend you one of mine, okay?"

"Okay then."

"Will you return it next time you're here?"

Marcus smiled, while smoothing his uniform.

"Maybe I will Viggo."


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn't until three weeks later that Marcus was scheduled for L.A. again. He still felt something between embarrassment and arousal, thinking about the last time he was here. It had been a long time since he'd had a one night stand and the first time he'd had such a hot one. He had felt Viggo for four days and he had hated it when the feeling disappeared. He told himself he had been lucky Viggo hadn't turned out to be some scary creep and going home with a complete stranger had been foolish, but he couldn't get it out of his head.

What made it worse was having Viggo's belt hanging on the hook on the inside of his wardrobe. Every time he opened it and he saw that rather ugly and certainly out of date brown belt, he got so hard it hurt. Once or twice he got as far as taking it off the hook with the intention of throwing it away, but he didn't.

Packing his small trolley for the trip, he didn't even try to argue with himself but rolled up the belt and put it between his clean shirts and underwear. It didn't take up much space and taking it with him didn't necessarily mean he would do something with it, did it? Just before he left he opened his trolley again and on a whim put in two small packages of lube and two condoms. Just in case, because you never know.

They had to wait for a passenger being too late and as much as Marcus was used to that, he still got annoyed, because this time he would only have sixteen hours in L.A. Finally the passenger turned up and they didn't have to go looking for his luggage to unload, so they left only thirty minutes late.

From that moment on, things went rather smoothly. Even the US safety procedures didn't take too long and Marcus was on his way long before he had estimated. They loaded themselves and their luggage into four cabs and were brought to their hotel. Marcus undressed and crawled into his king size bed. He woke up four hours later, feeling completely rested. The alarm clock next to his bed told him it was 10 pm and he got up and took a nice long shower. He hesitated when dressing, opting for a t-shirt and jeans, but then suddenly feared Viggo might not recognise him or wouldn't even be interested in him in casual clothes.

It was even warmer than it had been the last time and he felt silly, but still put on a clean shirt and his uniform. He pulled his belt with the company's logo on the buckle out of the loops and replaced it with Viggo's brown leather one. It looked horrible, but no one would notice or care, not where he was going anyway.

He sat down at the small desk and took a sheet of the courtesy hotel paper, pondering a moment before he started writing.

 

Viggo,

I am in L.A. and wondering if you would like to have your god-awful belt returned. I know I want mine back! You're not at home; if you're still interested I am in room 4744 in the Four Seasons Hotel; come and visit me if you like. I am leaving around 11 am tomorrow.

Marcus

 

He phoned the reception and asked them to order him a cab and then went downstairs in the elevator, carrying the tax free bag with the very nice bottle of malt whisky he'd bought just before he had checked in at Heathrow.

Of course, he didn't even know if Viggo was there. He could even be out of town, but he would try his luck. He gave the cab driver the name of the street and directed him from 'The Dark Side" to the building Viggo lived in. He asked the cabbie to wait and walked to the door, looking over the row of names.

Marcus didn't know Viggo's last name, but there were only four apartments on the eighth floor and he guessed 'V.P. Mortensen' would be Viggo. He pressed the button twice, but no answer. He pulled out the note from his pocket and slipped it into the letterbox.

He didn't feel like going for a drink so he just had the cabbie drive him back to the hotel, which wasn't very far. Back in his room, Marcus took off his jacket, called room service and ordered a club sandwich and a beer that hadn't been killed in the process of cooling. He would never get used to the American way of drinking chilled beer, like the cans in the hotel room fridge.

Slumping down on the bed, he threw the lube and the condoms on the nightstand – again, just in case – and propped up the pillows. He read a few pages in the book he'd brought and was just thinking about ordering another beer when there was a knock on the door. Marcus had been hoping for it, even while eating, drinking and reading, but had steeled himself for disappointment. Viggo was at the door all right, grinning at him; Marcus' belt dangling from between his fingers.

He never got to say anything, as Viggo stepped in and pushed him backwards through the small hall. He felt the back of the couch against his thighs and almost toppled over while Viggo's mouth closed over his, pressing his tongue deep into Marcus' mouth and then his hand shot out to cup Marcus' cock through his pants.

Marcus struggled, then managed to break the kiss long enough to say a breathless word; "bedroom," and then he grabbed Viggo by the shoulders, steadying himself and steering the other man through the bedroom door.

Marcus gave a brief thought about taking Viggo this time, like he had more or less planned, because Viggo might expect him to be a bit more aggressive and not to bend over immediately each time they met. Instead he just groaned as Viggo pushed him down onto the bed, and started unbuttoning his shirt. A triumphant laugh sounded when the belt was pulled out of the loops and thrown on the bed. He lifted his hips so Viggo could pull his pants down, while one foot worked on the other to get his shoes and socks off.

Then Marcus was naked, grinding his body against Viggo's fully clothed one. His hands started working on Viggo's jeans, pulling up his tee at the same time, wanting them to be naked together, wanting to see Viggo this time.

It was as if Viggo had four hands instead of two, toying with Marcus as if he were a doll and there was nothing he could do but give in to those hands, kneading him like a lump of dough. Pulling at Marcus' hips Viggo made him turn over and like the last time Marcus felt no shame, but just spread his legs wantonly. He tried to say something about the lube, but Viggo muttering "fuck", his hands stroking and then opening Marcus' cheeks robbed him of words. A pillow was propped up underneath him and he groaned desperately when he felt the tip of a tongue prodding his entrance.

Marcus had always considered rimming not done and dirty. Dirty it was; dirty, wet and fucking fantastic. Writhing underneath Viggo he opened up as much as he could, crying out every time that unbelievable tongue reached even deeper. By now, sweat was dripping from his brow, soaking his hair and salt stinging his eyes.

Faintly he could hear someone banging on a wall and he winced, but he was just unable to muffle the sounds he made. He had to grab the headboard with both hands to restrain himself from reaching backwards and pulling himself more open, when Viggo finally stopped and got to his knees to snatch a condom from the nightstand.

Loosened by Viggo's tongue and dripping wet, it still hurt like hell when Viggo pushed in without further preparation and Marcus loved every second of the long glide inside. The bed banged the wall when Viggo started fucking him in earnest and Marcus spent one precious moment being grateful that the rest of the crew was two floors below and not in the rooms next to him, before he lost every thought and spilled hotly over the sheets.

Marcus opened his eyes reluctantly when Viggo nudged him, then sat up gingerly and accepted the wet towel handed to him. He cleaned himself up, suddenly too exhausted even to consider going to the bathroom, then allowed Viggo to pull him down again onto the mattress. Sighing contently, Marcus snuggled up close to Viggo, ignoring the wet sheet beneath him.

Just before he fell asleep, he could hear Viggo saying something.

"What?" he enquired groggily?

"I think I'll keep the pants this time."


	3. Chapter 3

Just before he left Marcus' hotel room, Viggo had said he would leave for Eastern Europe in just over four weeks, to do a film. The shooting would take about six weeks, and Marcus had been happier than he cared to admit even to himself, for having two L.A. flights in those four weeks.

Of course, he had to refuse Viggo his uniform trousers; it really wouldn't do to fly back the plane in Viggo's battered jeans and he could even lose his job over that. Instead, Viggo had picked out Marcus' expensive golden cufflinks and even though Marcus still didn't get the reason why Viggo picked out trophies, it was strangely exciting. He had blinked when he saw the item Viggo offered him in exchange for the cufflinks, which was a blue and red bracelet, and looked as if someone's aunt had made it. A strange thing for a man as masculine as Viggo to wear, more fit for a giggling teenage girl, but Viggo himself acted like it was a considerable honour for Marcus to be allowed to have it. There wasn't a toggle and Viggo had to untie the simple knot before he handed it to Marcus.

"The colours of my football team," he had said, "San Lorenzo," and Marcus could think of quite a few responses to that, but had just shrugged and accepted the bracelet. At home he had put the thing into the drawer of his bedside table and it made him smile every time he opened it.

Tomorrow he would fly to L.A. and just the thought of that made him flush in anticipation. He was packing some items for the flight, when he remembered he should take the bracelet and he took it out of the drawer. It looked innocent enough on the palm of Marcus' hand, but he suddenly envisioned it on Viggo's tanned wrist and what they did last time, and he could feel his cock twitch.

That evening, before sleeping, he showered and then clumsily tied the bracelet around his right wrist with his left hand. He lay down on his bed and pleasured himself slowly at first, but soon his pace quickened until he spurted over his hand and the bracelet. He slept like a baby after that, and maybe that was one of the merits of having something that belonged to Viggo, childish or not.

The next day, L.A. was warm, clouded and very humid, so for once Marcus welcomed the superficial cold of his hotel room. He felt much better after a few hours of sleep and a long shower. He started dressing in the linen trousers he had brought and a t-shirt, but halfway, changed his mind and instead put his uniform back on, just replacing his shirt with a clean one. It was nonsense of course, but he somehow feared not wearing the uniform might break that spell-like thing that seemed to be there whenever they met.

Because of the oppressive heat, he took a cab this time to 'The Dark Side', if only to prove to himself that he could have a few drinks before going around to Viggo's place. Also, there were a few things he'd like to ask Viggo and maybe a drink or two would make him feel more in control over the situation, when he came face to face with Viggo.

It was still early in the evening when he arrived and he was glad for that, because the announced 'spectacular new band' would be due much later and it was nice and quiet right now. He had just finished his pint and was hesitating between having another one or going to Viggo's place to see if he was in, when a hand landed on his shoulder and he looked up into Viggo's grinning face.

"Drinking in some courage, or weren't you planning to get fucked today?"

Marcus looked around him quickly, but there was no one in hearing distance. "Good evening to you too, Viggo."

"Well?"

Viggo watched him intently and Marcus could feel himself blush, "I was just planning to see if you were home if that's what you mean."

The hand that was still on his shoulder slid under his elbow and more or less lifted Marcus from his chair. "So, what are we waiting for Captain? Let's go."

Marcus wasn't sure whether it was the temperature or Viggo's proximity, but by the time they reached Viggo's flat he was sweating. He tried to find a subject to talk about, but he seemed tongue-tied. He felt slightly pissed off by Viggo, who seemed to walk two steps ahead of him all the time, whatever he tried and looked back at him now and then. *Like I am on some fucking leash or something.* He wasn't used to that; he was usually in charge at work, in personal stuff, when having sex. People always took him seriously and now that he followed Viggo to his flat he decided it was about time Viggo would take him seriously too.

They stepped into the nice cool elevator, and Marcus smiled at Viggo and said the first thing that came to mind and seemed like a fairly decent conversation opening.

"Have you been living here for long, Viggo?"

All he got back for his trouble was Viggo winking at him and then stepping closer, so close their noses nearly touched.

"You wanna talk? Okay… No Marcus, I haven't; I've moved in fairly recently. Nice weather isn't it Viggo? Yes Marcus, it is. Now give me your tongue," and he pressed his lips onto Marcus' mouth, demanding entrance and fuck if he didn't only obey Viggo and let him in, but also sucked on his tongue eagerly, as if he was starved.

They stumbled out of the lift, Marcus' belt already undone. Viggo had to release him in order to open the door, but then he grabbed Marcus again, pushing and shoving him through the hall.

"Not that bloody kitchen again," he managed to say.

"I didn't hear you complain last time," Viggo said, but he did push Marcus into another door and onto a bed. He climbed between Marcus' spread legs and grabbed his tie, working the knot until he could pull it loose.

"Give me your hand," Viggo demanded and then grabbed Marcus' wrist, tying it to the headboard with the silk tie. Marcus' belt was next, yanked from the loops in one big pull and then used to tie his other wrist.

Marcus closed his eyes while Viggo took off his shoes and socks then yanked his uniform trousers down together with his shorts. He unbuttoned Marcus' shirt and folded the two sides back, his thumb stroking a nipple.

"I wonder if you're such a nipple slut as I expect you to be," Viggo said and then his tongue was on Marcus' left nipple, lapping at it like a kitten lapping up milk. Something about that tongue; eager and raspy, elicited a sound from Marcus he hadn't known he had in him, and Viggo looked up and grinned at him. "Thought so," he said and then he bit down, a series of sharp, quick bites that made Marcus cry out and writhe on the mattress.

He kissed back eagerly when Viggo lifted his head to kiss him, hands now toying with Marcus' nipples, pulling and stretching them until he broke the kiss and latched onto one of the swollen buds.

"Fuck Viggo, please, please fuck me," he begged, no longer caring about leashes or talking or whatever, but Viggo growled something in answer he didn't understand and climbed up over him, straddling him until his cock was right above Marcus' face. His hand slid behind Marcus' neck, cupping it and then lifting it up.

"Suck me," he ordered, and Sean went down on him eagerly, trying to get as much of Viggo's length in as the awkward position allowed him. He wished he could use his hands, that he could really make Viggo lose control and he fought his restraints, but Viggo had strapped him down expertly and it was useless.

Much too soon, Viggo released him, stepping off the bed to shed his clothes, and rummaging through his nightstand drawer for a condom. Climbing back on the bed he pushed Marcus' legs upwards and then down to the mattress. "No lube," he stated, offering his fingers to Marcus who sucked them in eagerly.

He felt exposed, he was exposed really, but he couldn't care less. For the first time he was able to actually see Viggo naked and aroused and that was good. He moved on the wet finger that pushed inside, enjoying the burn and stretch, trying to relax when a second and then a third was added.

Viggo used his teeth to tear open the foil and stroked himself two, three times, before he rolled down the condom. Marcus could now clearly see that this was affecting Viggo as much as it was affecting him. Viggo's eyes were closed when he lined up and pushed in, sharp white teeth biting his lower lip fiercely.

He stretched out over Marcus, one hand grabbing a thigh, pushing it up even higher, the other hand on Marcus' wrist where the blue and red bracelet just peeked out of his shirt sleeve and then he started moving. Their faces were very close and they stared into each other eyes while Viggo ground down hard and fucked Marcus relentlessly.

He needed a hand on his cock, really needed to come and Viggo made him beg for it until he was almost sobbing, before his hand curled around Marcus' cock and stroked it. His release was dizzying and embarrassingly loud, as if Viggo stripped off all the layers of restraint Marcus had built up so very carefully through the years.

He dozed off while Viggo was still untying his hands. He woke up suddenly, feeling confused. He blinked when he saw Viggo standing at the foot of the bed, impeccably dressed in his – Marcus'- uniform. Even his hair looked neat and tidy, combed and slicked back.

"What the hell?" he started.

Viggo pointed at the clothes he had worn earlier that were now on a pile on the bed. Marcus looked at the frayed jeans and the faded blue t-shirt, and then looked up at Viggo again.

"Grab a shower and get dressed, Marcus. I am taking you out."


	4. Chapter 4

"Grab a shower and get dressed, Marcus. I am taking you out."

"No you're not. Not wearing my uniform, you aren't."

"Don't be such a bore; you can have it dry cleaned at that fancy hotel you're in. And at least I am not wearing your shoes; you have awful big feet, you know."

Marcus rolled his eyes, glad that he had just come, knowing how Viggo would have found some filthy way to persuade him if he hadn't.

"Viggo, you are not going out wearing my uniform, and that's the end of it. I have to wear that tomorrow and it needs to look pristine. "

"Okay, then you put it on, so at least I can show you off. We have this party to go to."

"Show me off? Do I look like a French poodle to you, for fuck's sake?"

"I don't know Marcus; you are pretty good at rolling over, giving paws and playing dead."

He was out of bed in a second, grabbing Viggo by the shoulder and slamming him into the wall.

"Get out of my uniform, you bastard."

Viggo looked at him, the tip of his tongue peeping out from the corner of his mouth. "Or what?"

Biting back his sudden anger, Marcus shrugged. He turned round and bent over to pick up his socks and shoes, "I've had enough Viggo, just take it off."

Viggo didn't move as much as a finger, just kept leaning against the wall. "No," he said, "you come and take it off if you want it back."

Turning around slowly, Marcus stepped close up to Viggo, "I said I've had enough, Viggo, "he said, sounding deceptively calm, "now stop fucking around."

Viggo grinned at him, seemingly unfazed, "You know it's hard to take a man seriously, when all he is wearing is just one black sock."

That was it; and now he'd really had enough. Grabbing the collar of the uniform jacket, Marcus started unbuttoning it, wishing he could tear it off, but knowing he had to wear it tomorrow he restrained himself. Immediately, Viggo turned around and pressed his body to the wall. Cursing, Marcus tried to turn him back, but Viggo sort of rolled up like a hedgehog and stood his ground as if he was glued to the wall. Groaning, Marcus managed to get a hand between Viggo and the wall, but he couldn't reach the buttons of his suit. Instead he reached down for Viggo's belt – his belt, godammit – and tried to unbuckle it.

Somehow he wasn't surprised at Viggo pushing back, not surprised at Viggo rubbing his arse against his – Marcus' – crotch, and his getting hard rapidly wasn't really a shock either. He stopped the movement of his hands for a moment, listening to the faint noises coming from Viggo.

"If that's what you want why didn't you ask me?" he said, his hands on the familiar fly now.

"Because it's more fun this way," came the muffled reply, and suddenly he was fully aroused again and ready for giving it to Viggo hard. He managed to unbuckle the belt and then lower the zipper, even though Viggo wasn't really cooperating, but more or less resisting the attempt to undress him. Marcus yanked the trousers down – his fucking trousers – and then fought Viggo, who was squirming like he was trying to escape back through the wall.

Marcus looked around the room, then remembered Viggo saying 'no lube' earlier and if he could take it, so could Viggo. He spat into his hand thickly and wetted his cock, grabbing Viggo by the arm, pushing him roughly, stumbling over to the low dresser in the corner of the room and bending him over it.

Viggo had gone perfectly still, allowing Marcus to manhandle him, mould him into the position Marcus wanted. Viggo had managed to get one leg out of the trousers and put his knee up on the dresser, as if he were a ballet dancer or something and when Marcus started pushing in Viggo almost damned well climbed the thing.

Everything about Viggo was hot and smooth, being inside him too much to be kind about it. Marcus knew he was hurting him, but he was unable to slow down. The way Viggo moved beneath him made him push in even harder, grab his hips even harder, finally eliciting a cry from the man. He pulled out almost completely, and then slammed back in, urged by Viggo pushing back at him and for a moment he wondered who was fucking who here, but then the thought was gone in bliss. Marcus threw back his head, as he thrust in one more, perfect time and then came deep inside Viggo in a wonderful, selfish release.

It took him a few minutes to realise Viggo hadn't come yet, and Marcus got to his feet, pulled Viggo more or less upright, laid a big hand around his cock and stroked him until he came with a hoarse shout.

He held Viggo up against his body until his breathing calmed down and then set him free. He looked at Viggo, at his back still turned towards him, suddenly afraid he had hurt him, still wondering what had gotten into him to behave like that.

"Viggo? You're okay?" he asked, relieved when the other man turned around and grinned at him.

"Yeah, I am fine. You're one horny poodle, Marcus," and then they were both laughing.

"So how about that shower, Viggo? Offer still stands?"

"Sure, go right ahead. Maybe you should take your pants with you; I've cum all over them. You've also drooled on the jacket, maybe you should take that with you too, and there's this strange stain on the shirt."

"Bloody hell."


End file.
